Kaname Kei raised his glove and gave the sign.
Haruka Kiyomine nodded.
No matter who stood in the batter's box, he would only do one thing—
throw the ball into Kaname Kei's glove.
Whoosh!
With his height exceeding 1.8 meters, Haruka Kiyomine's long arm whipped forward, and the baseball exploded out of his hand.
The small white ball streaked through the air like a beam of light.
Kanzaki Ryou's hawk-like eyes locked onto his prey.
He swung.
The moment the bat moved, a terrifying pressure seemed to surge outward.
Kaname Kei's pupils shrank.
Just from that swing alone, his breathing faltered.
Bang!
The bat met the ball squarely, sending it rocketing away.
"Oh?" Kanzaki Ryou looked slightly surprised.
"Nice ball quality. It's heavy."
Behind him, Miyuki shook his head helplessly.
He hadn't yet told Kanzaki Ryou about these two's background, so it was only natural for him to be caught off guard.
That Fastball's speed was easily above 140 kilometers per hour.
At the junior high level, that was already monstrous.
"Senior's batting really is amazing," Kaname Kei said honestly.
Haruka Kiyomine had just thrown that pitch in peak condition—velocity, power, and control all concentrated toward the low outside corner.
And yet, it was still crushed.
"You don't need to think too much about it," Kanzaki Ryou said casually.
"You're still middle schoolers. Getting beaten today is normal."
Kaname Kei nodded lightly.
The words were blunt, but they were truth.
He gave the next sign.
Whoosh!
The second pitch came in.
Kanzaki Ryou swung and sent the Slider flying as well.
Third pitch.
A Two-seam fastball.
The result was the same.
Three pitches.
Three clean hits.
In those few swings, Kanzaki Ryou had already grasped Haruka Kiyomine's level.
Fastball nearing 145 kilometers per hour.
Good control.
Four-seam, Two-seam, Slider.
Just these alone were enough to step directly into a high school rotation.
Compared to Sawamura and Furuya—setting talent aside for now—this kid was far more complete.
Those two were still growing wildly.
Haruka Kiyomine, on the other hand, clearly had systematic training since childhood.
If Kanzaki Ryou had to describe it…
He was very similar to Narumiya Mei.
Both were pitchers raised in elite environments.
The only difference—
This kid had a catcher willing to walk beside him from the very beginning.
Narumiya Mei, unfortunately, never got Miyuki, that "loser dog."
"Pfft—"
Kanzaki Ryou suddenly laughed.
"What are you laughing about?" Miyuki asked.
"Something funny."
Miyuki: "..."
He turned toward Kaname Kei.
"Do you still want to pitch?"
Kaname Kei shook his head.
"That's enough. But… we want to see Senior Kanzaki's pitching."
"Alright."
Kanzaki Ryou put down the bat and slipped on his glove.
Soon, he stood on the mound with a baseball in hand.
Miyuki squatted behind the plate wearing only his glove.
"Senior Miyuki, you're not wearing protective gear?" Kaname Kei asked.
That was Kanzaki Ryou's pitching.
Catching barehanded seemed far too dangerous.
"No need," Miyuki replied with a smile.
Kaname Kei stepped aside.
So this was their trust.
He glanced at Haruka Kiyomine.
…Yeah.
Just like us.
Haruka Kiyomine stepped into the batter's box, gripping the bat tightly. His tall frame looked perfectly suited for explosive power hitting.
Miyuki glanced at him, then nodded toward Kanzaki Ryou.
No signs.
No complicated pitch-calling.
Against junior high batters, none of that was necessary.
Whoosh!
The ball tore through the air.
Snap!
It buried itself cleanly into Miyuki's glove.
Haruka Kiyomine swung.
Miss.
"So fast…!" Kaname Kei clenched his fist.
This speed was completely beyond anything they had ever faced.
Haruka Kiyomine's eyes burned brighter instead of dimming.
The stronger the opponent—
the more excited he became.
"Good eyes," Kanzaki Ryou said lightly.
"Again."
Whoosh!
Inside.
Whoosh!
Outside.
Two more Fastballs.
Two more empty swings.
Three pitches.
Three strikeouts.
Yet Haruka Kiyomine showed no frustration at all.
Only growing excitement.
"That's enough," Kanzaki Ryou said.
"Any more and it'll just be bullying."
This kid was talented.
Very talented.
But talent still needed time.
For now, he was not ready.
"Thank you for the guidance, Senior Kanzaki," Kaname Kei said, bowing deeply.
With just three pitches, the gap was already painfully clear.
This was Japan's strongest high school pitcher.
"What about you?" Miyuki asked with a grin.
"Don't you want to try batting?"
"Me?"
Kaname Kei hesitated, then nodded.
"I'll give it a shot."
He stepped into the box.
Three pitches later—
the result was identical.
Not even a foul.
"Let's stop here," Miyuki said, standing up.
"It's getting late. How about we exchange contact info?"
"Okay. Thank you, Seniors."
They left the cages together and exchanged contacts.
Just as they were about to part ways, Miyuki suddenly spoke.
"Kaname Kei."
Kaname Kei turned around.
"This might be my misunderstanding," Miyuki said slowly,
"but I want to ask anyway."
"…Please go ahead, Senior Miyuki."
"You're very talented."
"But I don't feel happiness from you."
Miyuki frowned slightly.
"Is it because… you don't actually like baseball?"
Silence fell.
Since the moment they met, Miyuki had rarely seen Kaname Kei smile.
Except—
when he was looking at Haruka Kiyomine.
When batting.
When catching.
When talking about the future.
There was responsibility.
Determination.
Even exhaustion.
But not passion.
As a catcher, Miyuki trusted his instincts.
And right now—
he couldn't see love for baseball in Kaname Kei's eyes.